


Nocturne

by wendydarling



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-16
Updated: 2013-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-12 01:49:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendydarling/pseuds/wendydarling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry can't sleep, Niall doesn't want to sleep.</p><p>Or the one where it's a University AU, Harry has a sleeping disorder, Niall's a narcoleptic slash hypnophobic suffering from isolated sleep paralysis and they hang out at the boys' common room every three AM to cope with their sleeping problems.</p><p>There's Harry playing the violin too, reciting poems, quoting books and basically falling in love with each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Some might deem it fast paced, unbeta-ed, quite possibly just a draft, I' am a bad narrator, Harry plays the violin and Niall likes Twilight.

The biggest problem with him, as even his Mother says, is that he tackles everything in life with the mindset that he can do it. He thinks that it's not such a bad trait, but his Mum would tut at him and tell him otherwise.

This gut feeling he has is what prompted him in the first place to enrol in University at the other side of the country away from his mother, his sister and his best friend Louis (who enrolled at the local university at their city).

He thought it would be a good idea; to start anew, refresh his personality and just be different. The possibilities that are endless, roads opening, new friends, new people to shag or even to fall in love with.

The part where he might not fit in is what he dismissed. 

He fits along fine, more than fine. He's very popular with both genders, the teachers are very charmed with him, he has a new clique and even has a spot in the swimming team. Not to mention his set of grades that is currently making his Mum proud.

Fitting in, as to him, is a process of both physically and mentally. Everybody has physically and mentally accepted him in this strange new place, but to him, mentally, he can't deal with things as easily as they appear to be when he's in public.

The food tastes different; it's too bland and not his Mother's recipe. All the students speak in another accent and some try to copy the mainland's. In the morning, there is no fresh milk and newspaper and bread from the delivery boys.

Water has a schedule when it stays warm and some of his class and hall mates, as he calls them, uncultured swine. They know nothing of Poe, or Monet or even Austen. The boisterous American who lives two rooms down has no idea who Fitzgerald is.

In music class, everybody plays a piano version of a raunchy popular song and has second to no knowledge with the likes of Chopin and Beethoven. It frustrates him to no end that these people are in university with no knowledge and appreciation for the fine things in life.

To be fair, before University, he was not obsessed with things like art and music, just so happens that in his last school they were taught of how important they are. Here, if you don't have weed, a girl you fucked last night or whatnot then you have no reason to talk to the others.

But that is not what annoys him the most. What does is that his mind and body refuses to let him sleep. Like they have a mind of their own and won't accept the fact that he is not at home with his big bed and the white fluffy sheets instead of this bunk that will surely fall any minute now on Liam Payne who bunks underneath him if he keeps up with tossing and turning.

He relates this to being homesick, but he doesn't miss his Mum or sister or even his cat. Everything just feels different; he feels alienated. The nighttime is the worst with his mind screaming at him that no he isn't tired yet but his eyes feel so heavy.

He's torn between the line that his body wants to sleep but his mind doesn't want to. Basically speaking, he can't sleep. Four months in this unknown university with almost to no sleep is about to drive him insane.

The one thing keeping his sanity intact is that when everyone's sleeping, he can get out of bed at two or three in the morning (called the demon hour so a much better time for him since the officials are too pansy to scour for out of bed students) and sit in the common room.

Everything is different at night. The loud and happy common room of their hall has no students shouting profanities every second, the fireplace is left unlit, and he can hear the chillingly beautiful chime of the grandfather clock.

So he gets down from his bunk, grabs a sweater and makes his way out of his and Liam's room. He has this battle with his self every night if he should continue cursing his inability to sleep or if he should just go to the common room. The latter solution always win in the end.

The common room has a very homey feeling to it. Oil paintings are hung in the wall, the brick red of the fireplace, the flat burgundy carpet that he loves rubbing his toes against, the settees in a pretty brown and the blankets on the corner of the room when the students feel like rolling around the carpet more comfortably.

It was his great luck that his and Liam's room is the first one in a row of others', making the common room positioned practically right beside their own. 

The grandfather clock is making that ticking sound that reminds him of home where they also have one like it and chimes during dinner and bed time. Placing his sweater on the arm of the settee, he lays down on it and closes his eyes.

Being in the common room brings him peace and much needed solitude (Liam snores a lot), but not sleep. During nights like this, he muses that the sandman finds him annoying and won't allow him to shut his eyes as punishment.

There were no windows, so no moonlight is seeping in to blind him or scare him into thinking that there really are monsters and supernatural things at three in the morning. He thinks about his day yesterday (because it is three in the morning).

It's the same old routine of pretending to have a good night sleep and fighting the tiredness during class. Another side effect of his sleeping problem is that during the day, when his body is too tired to function and needed rest, he could only close his eyes but never lose his awareness. He can't drift off to dreamland.

It got to the point that the frustration of this inability made him cry. He just wants to rest. He considered taking sleeping pills, but he knows he'll get addicted and that'll be the last thing he wants to happen.

He places the top of his arm over his eyes and evened his breathing. Keeping calm and semi-meditation always helped to take the irritation and fatigue away even for just an hour or so.

Biting his lip, his hand blindly searches for his sweater to clutch. Sweat is forming on his forehead and he didn't want it to drop on his eyes. He wipes it off with his sweater and lets out a puff of carbon dioxide from his mouth slowly.

He wishes that he could've brought a book or anything to pass the time, but that wouldn't help the drowsiness. Sometimes he wonders if this is a sickness of some kind, but he dismisses it with the idea of homesickness.

All he did the entire time was to do breathing exercises. When he hears the noisy sound the light switches in the corridor makes, he stands up and takes his sweater to go back to his room. 

It's almost six in the morning, he should start preparing for school.

*

The next day was strange. He arrives there with his sweater and this time a book. Everything remained how it is except for the fact that there's someone sitting on his spot at the settee.

Seeing that it's a hall of residence for boys, the other is obviously a male like him. The other person's shoulders are narrow and excessively close to his body, and his head hung low.

The other must have heard his shuffling, and so he finds himself staring at a pair of blue eyes with dark circles underneath. His skin is a pasty white that the black rings were highlighted a lot.

Thinking that this was originally his spot, he settles down on the armchair beside the fireplace. The other didn't breathe loudly like he does when he's here, but whenever he glances up at the other, he could see the rising and falling of his chest.

He caught the other digging his fingernails on his palm up to the point of drawing blood. Grumbling, the stranger stands up and he ignores it. 

The grandfather clock chimes and he just noticed that it's already six. Liam's an early riser, and he didn't want to explain what he's doing at a time like this. Gathering his things, he rushes back to his room.

*

"Harry, don't sleep while eating." Liam scolds him during lunch earlier. He vaguely remembered his reaction to be that of laughter and saying, "Yeah, yeah. Of course."

Deep inside him, he's screaming of how he wants to sleep. Glorious, relaxing, full-on sleep. As usual, he's at the common room earlier than he should be for the stranger from last night (or morning, or whatever really) might take his spot again.

The armchair's uncomfortable and rough that he ended up not only sleep-deprived but also with an aching back. Delighted that the blue-eyed boy from last night isn't there, Harry hurriedly sprawls on the settee with a thump. 

He never got to thinking about the other during the day, and now that he has a lot of free time, he thinks that he's never seen that boy around. Guessing that he's probably a year older student, which sounds weird because he's taller, Harry leaves it at that and turns on his front to read.

The silence drums in his ear louder than anything, sleep beckons to him so badly he wants to jump and grab it. The barrier that doesn't allow him to completely doze off wouldn't let go. He's so drowsy that the words on the book look like they're floating.

Harry hallucinates most of the time when this gets too out of hand. He bites the inside of his cheek and used what last strength he has to slap himself on the cheek. 

Opening his eyes in an instant, the sweating gradually stops. The fucked-up how he is so sleepy but he can't do it thing is dangerously close to happening again. He prefers keeping awake and doing breathing exercises.

Gulping air like it's water, he breathes through his nose hard and fast. Sweet oxygen fills his lungs, and it's cool, calming and relaxing, but there has always been something missing. A factor that wouldn't allow him to snooze off.

He only did stop when a crash destroys the peace. Harry's pupils are blown wide at the disturbance. He's scared that he might actually be found out. 

The sound of the crashing didn't evoke any reaction he expected like an official demanding who is making a ruckus at such a time. He turns a bit to see the cause and meets the blue eyes of the boy from last night.

Blue eyes openly glares at him, shifting from foot to foot beside the armchair. With an exasperated sigh, blue eyes seats down on the armchair and hugged his legs to his chest while rocking back and forth.

Harry's brows furrowed at the other's hostility towards him. He almost said, "What the fuck is your problem?" but he held it in. Blue eyes seemed like he would just ignore Harry or insult him, and he doesn't need that right now.

Rather than conversing, he faces the settee and his back towards blue eyes. Harry closes his eyes and did his breathing exercises again. He was almost insecure his somewhat companion in the common room would've berate him for breathing too loudly, then he hears it.

Blue eyes' softly snoring at the floor with a comforter; he must have went there without Harry noticing. Just as he's about to go back minding his own business, blue eyes' body becomes rigid and his snores stop. 

Harry doesn't move, just continued on watching blue eyes. After a minute, those blue eyes open and he's sweating and clutching the comforter with his mouth open like he's about to scream. 

Blue eyes closes his mouth abruptly and bites his bottom lip. He's shaking, and swearing underneath his breath, and when he shifts as to make his back seen, Harry noticed the tremors the boy is experiencing.

He wants to get up and help the other relax from whatever happened to him (maybe it was a nightmare), and on the other hand he wanted to wait and see what'll happen. The latter choice won since he doesn't know blue eyes anyway.

Blue eyes lay flat on his stomach at the floor; his entire body wrapped in the comforter and he's covering his head with one of the pillows scattered on the floor. Just by looking at his shoulders, Harry can tell that he's definitely scared.

A sigh escaped his lips before he pushes his body up and away from the settee to squat beside blue eyes. 

"You alright?" Harry asks. He says it in an almost whisper, keeping up a pretence that they are friends. He's only thankful that the boy's not as snobbish as he thought he was. Blue eyes shook his head out of honesty that no he is not fine. 

Harry nods to him self, "Right, okay." He sits down on the floor, crosses his arms and leans his back on the armchair. Recalling all the things his Mother did whenever he had nightmares during his childhood.

"Whatever the nightmare was, it's not true." He claims. It's the first thing that came to his mind, and though sounds lame, he always felt better when his Mum assures him that it's all a figment of his imagination.

Blue eyes made a sound that is between a groan and a scoff. He doesn't lift the pillow away from his face though he did moves his head to the left to end up pressing his right cheek on the carpet.

"Who are you and what do you want?" Blue eyes demanded. Harry inwardly chuckles at the smaller boy's attempt of sounding grouchy that came out in a tired tone laced with an Irish accent, "It's too dark here so state yourself."

"I should be asking you that," Harry shots back at him, "I had this common room for myself the last months and you suddenly arrive and invade my privacy."

Blue eyes growled at him. Harry's close enough to him that he can feel the other's breathing as it hit his leg. Deeming that distraction might help, Harry asks him another question, "What's your name?"

Worn out enough, blue eyes spoke, "It's Niall." Just as Harry's about to say his name back, Niall interrupts him. "I know your name is Harry. You're very popular for someone only starting uni."

"You just said it's too dark and you can't see me."

"Well, I can now."

Surprised that Niall knows who he is, Harry was left out of words. This time Niall's the one who talked first, "You should go back to bed. No use for a straight-A kid like you to hang around here at suspicious hours in the morning."

Harry concludes that he really hates that stereotype.

"I told you earlier; I've been here in this common room at 'suspicious hours in the morning' starting from the day I arrived here." Harry admits. Eyes peeking out from under the pillow, Niall raises a brow at him, "You don't want to sleep?"

Confused with the wording, Harry shakes his head, "No. I can't sleep. I'd give anything to get a good night's sleep." Niall laughs at that, "I'd give anything to not fall asleep."

Harry assumes that maybe this easy admittance of their sleeping habits is because they are both conversing at such an ungodly hour in the morning. The night reveals so much about a person, however in the daylight, everything will be forgotten.

*

During the day, Harry never saw Niall. At exactly three in the morning, at the common room, Niall's there on one side of the settee with his iPod and drinking tea with loud gulping noises.

He takes a blanket with him and sits opposite from Niall whose gaze follows him. "Can't sleep?" Niall asked, knowing the answer to something so obvious.

Instead of replying, Harry questioned Niall too, "You don't want to sleep?" Niall didn't respond to it either.

Harry closes his eyes, his loud breathing mixing with Niall's slurping. They were making a racket that Harry finds tranquillising. It kept him serene, Niall awake, and it's a good give and take relationship.

They both left when it's almost six without goodbyes or anything of the like.

*

Harry thought that an individual invading the only time he gets his rest would become the death of him. Rather, it had the opposite effect. Niall's presence makes him loose his guard in a good way. He knows too that Niall is thankful for him and his blatant heavy breathing for keeping him up.

He doesn't question Niall's fear of falling asleep, yet he wonders why. He wasn't kidding when he told the other boy he'd give absolutely anything to fall asleep even just once. Presumably Niall too. 

For four days straight, they find each other together at the common room. They wouldn't talk; just sit there at the arm side of the settee and fall into the same routine of not getting any rest.

In spite of his night owl trait, it doesn't affect his daily activities too much. Harry observed that Niall's always tired, eyes always close to falling shut, and he bets the smaller boy's having trouble already when it's day.

Another unusual thing that they both don't care about is that they never see each other besides three in the morning at the common room, sitting next to each other and minding their own business.

Then on the fifth day of a flawless routine, Niall falls asleep and almost fell off the couch when Harry caught him. 

Stuck with Niall's upper body dangerously dangling on the edge and his arms supporting his waist, Harry struggled to keep Niall still. After a minute, the blond's eyes open, mouth trying desperately to get some oxygen into his system and he's looking at Harry like he's- he's a thing from nightmares.

Niall pushes him away with a hand and screams mutely. He's muttering words and pulling on his hair, his throat moving indicating the soundless screaming and he's suddenly sweating all over.

Niall's at the floor with his legs near his chest and practically delirious. It took Harry a minute before he could gather his self properly. He kneels beside Niall similar to the way he did the previous night Niall fell asleep.

This time, Niall's completely out of his mind. He's moving away from Harry and crying so hard Harry felt afraid of his self. A million questions run into his mind;

'What is Niall seeing?', 'Why is he so afraid?', 'What's really happening?'

"No please, stay away from me." Niall cries out. Harry's mind and heart are fighting over what to do. He wants to run away, the proper and logical way to deal with this. It's what Niall wanted for him to and probably will be the best thing to do.

On the other hand, he wants to help the other boy.

Scolding himself inwardly, Harry lets out a heavy sigh and acted out the heroic action.

He's walking towards a cowering Niall begging no. He carries on, and when Niall's about to crawl away from him, he jumps the blond and hugs him tight.

"No, no, no, I didn't do anything-"

"Shut up." Harry growls. 

"Get away, no, stop, who are you-"

"I said, shut up." 

He moves Niall into a more comfortable position with his arms still tight around Niall. He lets Niall place his jaw on Harry's shoulder to be able to breathe. Niall's hands are bundled into fists and on his chest. 

Niall's sobbing gradually turns into soft moans and finally dropped to hiccups. Harry didn't notice that he's actually rocking Niall back and forth, or that Niall's arms are hugging him back.

Clearing his throat, Harry says to break the silence, "Good now?" He felt Niall's nod through their nearness. 

With a sigh, Harry leans his back on the nearest armchair, dragging Niall with him who wouldn't let go. His body sags, Niall's weight not really troubling him. In fact, he's extremely light for a male.

The grandfather clock makes it's heavy sound indicating that it's six o' clock and that they should both leave. Not wanting to break the moment, Harry opt with whispering, "It's times up."

"I know." Niall replies. Raising his brow at the fast but soft response, Harry firstly assumed he's asleep.

"We need to go back to our rooms."

"I know."

"We might be seen."

"I know."

He should be finding it annoying, instead Harry find Niall's obvious disregard and want to stay endearing.

"Let's stay for a bit."

"We should."

*

During the day, Harry finds himself pumped up with energy, grinning at everyone and just being happy. Liam asks him if it's because he had a good night sleep, and he just nods and say, "Yeah. A good night." 

Liam claps him on the back and grins at him proudly. "Finally, mate. Everyone's worried about you that you're not getting any sleep at all." Harry smiles, ignoring the scathing looks the librarian is giving him and Liam at the moment.

"Of course I sleep," He lies slickly, "How do you think I manage to get good grades?" Liam laughs. Harry felt a bit bad lying to Liam. If there's one person he could genuinely say is a real friend in this school, then it's Liam. The boy's true and very honest to the point of harsh bluntness, but at least not a fake.

He expected the librarian to be at their table right now asking them to leave. Harry spots her behind the counter and giving a raven-haired teen wearing a leather jacket and receiving a bundle of what seems to be the Twilight series.

Their table's close enough to hear the librarian and the newly arrived guy's conversation.

"He specifically asked for this one." The librarian croons, smiling fondly at the books and at the teen. 

Harry felt more confuse when the guy takes the bundle from her and lets out a chuckle, "He'd most definitely be happy. He likes the idea of vampires and all the star-crossed lovers thing."

Shaking his head disapprovingly at their direction, Harry turns back to his book that is far more interesting than that vampire wannabe series whose leading male character he shares a name with. The actor playing the part wasn't that bad of a bloke though.

"We better hurry up," Liam starts, "PE is next." 

They gather their textbooks separately and pushes the chairs back. The boy with the leather jacket is gone, and the librarian's back with shooting them scathing glares on their way out.

Liam smiles at her and says, "Goodbye, Adele." She glares at Liam and growls out, "It's Adella." He smiles again, obviously not unapologetic but nevertheless said sorry. 

Harry cleared his throat to stop the chuckle threatening to sound out of him due to Liam's antics. Everyone's first impression of Liam Payne is that he's a complete goody two shoes and that is a very big mistake.

Harry's just glad he's on Liam's good books. No words were exchanged between the two of them as they make their way to the gymnasium. 

Arriving, the rest of their class and what appears to be an older group of students are all entering the gym.

"Ah, a mixed class with the upperclassmen. We better hurry up then." Liam says sarcastically. He's all about controlling people so the fact that his batch is the youngest in the campus obviously has him on edge.

After changing in the locker room, Harry groans upon the realisation that today's class is all about basketball. Liam, ever happy with anything that includes being aggressive and humiliating other people, volunteers with the inter-level friendly game.

Sitting at the bench with the rest of the students who doesn't want to play, Harry's left with no one to talk to. All his other friends volunteered to play to. He sat at the farthest part of the gym but near enough to see the game.

Glancing at the other side of the gym where the upperclassmen are, Harry's heart took a faster beat and he openly ogles the blond boy sitting just a few foot away from him watching the game while sucking on his thumb.

The blond glances right back at him. Familiar blue eyes widen that made the dark circles underneath Niall's eyes stretch into a grey. Not knowing what to do, Harry raises his hand up awkwardly and waves.

Niall waves back unsurely. The corners of his mouth pulls up in a smile that Harry mirrored. Without a second thought, he stands up and walks over to where Niall is. Those not joining the game watched them in curiosity.

Harry raises a fine brow at every person daring to meet his eyes. He only stopped when Niall chuckles. 

"You newbies go around scaring the shit out of your upperclassmen with your arrogance." Niall tells him with a grin. Harry shrugs and checked the happenings of the game for a second.

Liam's going head-on with the guy at the library earlier; the leather jacket one requesting for the twilight series. 

"I always assumed your type is the one to be a sports junkie." Niall's statement shakes him away from his musings. Giving what Niall said some thought, Harry shrugs again. "I don't like basketball. But I'm in the swimming team."

He shifts his body to look at Niall; an action that made their bare knees touch. Ignoring the heated skin to skin contact, Harry asks, "What about you?"

Niall doesn't respond fast. His blue eyes look around the gym to stop at the PE teacher noting down the names of the student's playing. "My teacher's afraid I'll suddenly tumble down on whatever game and doze off."

Harry laughs, "I guess he noticed how tired you always are?" Niall stares down at him with a 'You're-an-imbecile' look. 

"I'm narcoleptic, you prat." Niall sneers. Harry felt embarrassed at his own naivety and obliviousness. Of course, why else would Niall suddenly fall asleep when he tries so hard not to. He was too stupid for linking it to just weariness.

Harry's eyebrows furrow at one loophole, "Aren't people with narcolepsy suppose to only fall asleep at relaxing surroundings? I don't think a basketball game can ever be associated with that."

"Exactly," A snort, "People are so narrow-minded. I tried explaining it a hundred times but the teachers will all coddle me and advise me about it." Niall glares at the PE teacher after finishing his rant.

Either of the two bothered saying another word. It was only then that Harry heard a familiar voice laughing and speaking, "What losers. Is this what you're all made of?" Recognising Liam, Harry just shakes his head to his direction and sighs.

"See what I tell you about arrogance? But of course Zayn would reciprocate it." Niall suddenly says. 

Like what Niall said, the boy with the leather jacket a.k.a Zayn glares at Liam and snarled out, "You watch your mouth before I pummel you to the ground." 

"Liam's too cheeky and proud to let that insult go." Harry mentions the obvious. Niall lets out an exhausted breath. "Typical jocks. Too bad for your friend though because Zayn's got the talent."

True to Niall's word, Liam's panting and sweating so badly that the benched students are starting to murmur about it. The game ends with Zayn and his team winning. He smirks winningly at Liam and looks around searching for something.

Liam goes to where Harry's sitting and said harshly, "Fucking bitch. I'll win next time." He ignored Niall and only noticed the blond when Zayn appeared beside him saying, "These children giving you trouble Niall?"

Completely forgetting about Harry and Niall in front of them, Liam and Zayn went into arguing with each other again. Harry took this as his chance to whisper to Niall, "Will I see you tonight?"

Niall nods and smiles, "Of course."

*

On both of his hands, Harry's carrying a chocolate banana muffin. Niall noticed this instantly as soon as Harry arrived in the common room at three in the morning. 

Niall's sitting at the middle of the settee and Harry settles beside him. Just this action shows the difference in their relationship due to what happened the other day. He hands it to Niall who takes it happily.

The blond adjusts his position to sprawl on the sofa. Harry moves a bit to give Niall some space. Once Niall found himself comfortable, he started eating and Harry did the same.

Darkness ruled the common room, and the only source of light comes from one light bulb at the centre of the left and right intersections.

Harry chews slowly; he's in no hurry and he's savouring it. The muffin was his dessert during dinner but he forced his self not to eat it for later. He took Liam's muffin who said he didn't want it and kept it for his self, and ended up giving it to Niall.

He thinks he did a nice thing anyway. Niall's eating it like it's the last thing he'll ever taste or that he never had food. It makes him smile involuntarily. Despite Niall invading his privacy for being another nocturnal teenager, he finds the other boy easy to get along with.

It might have to do with the fact that he just helped Niall twice with the nightmares. Niall seems to like him too. 

"If you bring me food every time we see each other I might as well marry you." Niall says off-handedly. Harry's lips formed a thin line, trying to stop the laughter at the back of his throat.

In a more serious tone, Niall stares at him through his eyelashes, "I never had the chance to tell you how grateful I am."

"You're very talkative." Harry blurts out. The light reaches them enough for him to see Niall's pale face turns red. He's biting his bottom lip, making it match the shade of his cheeks and why the hell does he find it cute?

"I-uh-sorry," Niall blubbers, "It's just- I never had- I'm sorry." His blue eyes are cast down and fingers playing with his cerulean jumper. 

Harry blushes too, the realisation of the impact of his words to Niall hitting him. "No, I'm sorry. That was rude, completely rude. I'm not annoyed, I swear."

"You're not?" Niall's entire demeanour changed in an instant. His head's titled now to the side and one brow unconsciously raised out of confusion. Harry lets out a sigh inwardly; thankfully Niall's not the type to blame his self and will only hesitate to stop when they get enough assurances.

He nods, Niall lets out a sigh of relief and leans back on the settee again.

"I just- No one really talks to me much. Except for my roommate Zayn. He's really nice and helps me a lot like picking up books for me at the library, but he treats me like an invalid person most of the time. It took me real stealth to escape our room without getting noticed by him." Niall explained. He _does_ talk excessively, though Harry doesn't mind. 

It's better than him doing the talking. He'll probably just take about classical music and books; or the fact that most of the students are benighted slobs lacking in tact.

Niall's looking at him worriedly. Harry sighs inwardly again and cleared his throat before speaking, "I understand. I promise that you can talk however much you want." He smiles, Niall smiles back and Harry decided to lighten the mood by lightly teasing Niall.

"You said that Zayn roommate of yours pick up books for you? So the Twilight series was for you?" He's grinning cheekily, and this reminds him nostalgically of his days with Louis in London when they talk to girls so casually it's like second skin.

The girls and boys in their school is not only separated in halls, but also in classes. Practically the last females he talked to are the teachers in their early thirties though he is known among them.

Back to Niall who is reddening again, he licks his lips nervously at Harry's question (that is more like a statement). "The fact that vampires don't need sleep makes me happy." He says in all seriousness.

Harry ponders his reaction. He watched all four movies with his Mum and sister and he doesn't even know about that fact. He shrugs, pretending that he finds it a plausible excuse, "Good for you."

He notices Niall sighing from the corner of his eyes, and he couldn't help but adding, "Read Dracula if you want real vampires. Bram Stoker knows his shit." 

The look on Niall's face is the reason he never spoke about the things he like out loud anymore. That look of total question and lack of knowledge with the subject.

"What is a stoker?" 

He groans and pulled on his curls out of his annoyance with his self, "No, never mind. Forget what I said."

Niall doesn't let the subject go. He moves to sit beside Harry, pestering him about Bram Stoker. Closing his eyes and putting his arm on top of his eyes, Harry lets his head dangle over the sofa.

"Don't you know him? What about F. Scott Fitzgerald? Ring any bells?" Niall's answer was obvious enough to him. The blond shakes his head, the crease on his forehead deepening.

Harry purses his lips. Niall frowns.

"Have I displeased you?" He asked timidly. It makes Harry smile a bit, because yes Niall did and that's the cutest way of phrasing it.

"What do you know about classical music and literature?" He asks, peeking one eye out to look at Niall. Slowly, Niall shakes his head to grin next, "Teach me then."

His green eyes narrow questioningly at the statement. Niall chuckles and said, "This is your chance, oh great genius. Fill me with your knowledge and make me the perfect educated English gentleman."

He laughs softly at the stereotype with Englishmen. 

"Do it yourself." Harry says good-naturedly. Niall snorts, "You insult me."

There's a challenge hidden in that tone, and that made Harry jump on his seat to sit straightly, "I'd like to see you try in one day." He smiles, making sure to show off his dimples. 

Niall, unfazed by his unconcealed charm, only smirks. "Sneak more food tomorrow."

Harry changes his face into one of mock surprise, "You can learn everything I know by tomorrow?"

Niall's laughter echoes, "I'll give you a run for your money, Harry."

*

It's Saturday, three o' clock in the morning, and Harry and Niall arrived at the common room at the same time. There's no sign of tiredness from the two of them. Niall silently cackles at the basket of croissants Harry's carrying.

They sat down at the carpet, Harry places the basket beside him and Niall grins.

"Over confident?" He asks, smirking. Niall copies his expression with a modest shrug, "Don't worry. After all, I'm all for fair play."

Harry's eyebrows raise. 'Fair play's a Shakespeare phrase,' He thinks, 'Or did he just said it without noticing?'

Niall notices it, and it should've been impossible for his smirk to grow wider. He places his elbow on his left knee and his chin on his palm. "Quoth the raven, 'Nevermore.' Harry, you're going down."

Now that one is definitely not coincidence. "You actually succeeded in saying that right." He grumbles. This time, Niall's the one looking unsure.

"Did you take that from Oscar Wilde and revamped it or was that out of the blue?" 

He stares at Niall indifferently. You just don't notice someone saying a sentence and linking it with an author or whatnot. He didn't even thought about it himself.

"Quality of mercy is not strained." He says, glaring at Niall who laughed. "Shakespeare. Honestly, you British are obsessed with him."

'Seeing as he has the same nationality as us, well of course we are.' Harry thinks with a grumble.

"Well, I always speak what I think." 

"Pride and Prejudice. The movie was lovely."

"I'll make him an offer he can't refuse."

"The Godfather."

“Our apparel is also somewhat different from that of others, and this purely, that it may be a perpetual warning to us not to imitate them."

"That's by Voltaire. Christ, letters to England was absolutely boring."

Harry couldn't help the growl that came out of his mouth. Niall titters at the expression of surprise and irritation on Harry's face. "Et tu, brute, Harry."

After a moment of contemplation, Harry laughs and hands Niall the basket, "Fine, you win." Pleased with Harry's approval, Niall takes the basket with an ear-splitting grin. 

Niall doesn't ask how he managed to hide a basket of bread in his room, Harry doesn't take one and lets Niall take everything. The look of victory on Niall's face doesn't even make him angry that he was proven wrong.

He didn't have to ask how Niall learned so much in one night; obvious answers don't need stupid questions. Harry's fine with not knowing too. He's really fine with everything especially this three AM meet up of theirs.

It somehow became a thing. _Their_ thing. Nothing feels so natural to him compared to this. This was the most comfort he had since arriving here. He hopes Niall feels the same way, hopes that Niall also finds sanctuary with him.

Niall stops for a moment of his chewing in favour of looking back at Harry. He smiles. The tips of his mouth rising up. It's soft and gentle and why does he look like this? Harry ignores his sub-conscious to smile back at Niall.

"This is turning into a something." Niall whispers audibly. Harry nods, shrugs and says, "It's a something." 

Usually, people will assume too much. They'll glare at him, walk out and never show their faces. He's too easily bored to get committed, too emotionally unstable to admit his feelings, and he's falling apart bit by bit with his sleeping disorder. Yet this is one thing he knows he's getting accustomed to and he's almost afraid he's going to be obsess with it.

So he says, "But we just met."

Niall laughs, looking at Harry with an 'you-agreed-with-me-now-you're-contradicting-me' face.

"I know." Biting from the croissant, Niall waits for Harry's reply.

"But this is a something." He states. It sounds to him, and he knows to Niall too, like an inquiry.

"A something."

"It's a something."

"Okay."

"Okay then."

Niall hums and Harry does his breathing exercises louder than he should be allowed to.

*

The next day, Harry arrives in the common room at exactly two forty five AM. He's not carrying bread or any type of food. Instead, he has a book of poem collections he had when he was a child. 

It's worn out with the edges brown, the spine having broken lines and the cover is missing. He can recall his Mum reading it to him every night until he falls asleep. Funny how now he reads it but never does sleep.

He thought it would've help him during the first week of his arrival here. It obviously didn't. 

Harry takes a glance at the grandfather clock; two fifty AM. He has ten more minutes for his self before Niall arrives. 

He's careful with opening the book. Some pages are already teared and he doesn't want to damage it more. Flipping to a page with the top folded, he reads inside his head the poem called La Lune. 

It smiles down at me  
Similar to hers  
Her granite cold heart  
But a beauty comparable  
To a celestial body  
I'm afraid  
Sweating profusely  
She's nothing but dust  
And the moon reminds me of her  
Is still up there

The first time his Mum read it to him, he complained about it a lot. He said it didn't rhyme, that it doesn't make a single sense at all and there were words he didn't knew like granite, profusely and celestial body.

He was ranting about it so badly he didn't notice his Mother's silence and solemn expression. He remembered asking her why she looks so sad, and she replied so honestly with, "It reminds me of your Father."

He remembers the shock, surprise and confusion he felt at the same time. He obsessed with the poem so much and tried to decipher how it reminded his Mum of his Dad that he ended up memorising it. He was ten when he realised what it means.

Sighing, Harry reads another poem that is a lot more happier than La Lune. 

As he read, an itching feeling of wanting to look at the clock kept interfering with his reading. He tries his best to ignore it and to focus on the poem Les Etoiles again. He can hear the ticking of the clock and it's just so slow to him it's driving him mad.

It's way past three o' clock now.

Niall's yet to arrive and his sub-conscious is laughing at him for being so impatient. Biting his lip, Harry inspects the clock to confirm his suspicious. Green eyes widened upon seeing the clock hands at three and four. It's three twenty and Niall has never been late.

They might have only started talking two or three days ago, however, Niall never arrived later than three on the dot. His eyes are darting around everywhere in hopes that Niall would suddenly jump out of nowhere.

'Was it because of last night? Because it was too fast? Even I do not know what our 'something' really meant to him!' 

He's panicking and imagining all the worst scenarios in his head. What if Niall's asleep and when he wakes up there's no one to help him? Absent-mindedly throwing his book at the side, Harry jumps from where he's seating and started walking to the right of the hall's intersection.

His adrenaline dies down when he comes face to face with Niall in his jim jams, carrying a book and looking back at him in surprise.

"Harry?" Niall says in a low tone.

"I thought you were-"

Niall shushes him at the loudness of his voice, "It took me thirty minutes to escape from Zayn who decided to sleep at three in the morning."

He wanted to say more to make Niall realise the state he was in earlier. He holds it in and takes a deep breath before saying, "Right sorry."

The gratification he's feeling is bubbling on his chest similar to a boiling pot of water. Acting on instinct, Harry closes the distance between them by pulling Niall on his chest and encircling his arms around the blond's head.

Niall made muffled breathing sounds and adjusted his self to get some oxygen. Harry didn't speak and Niall didn't complain. Niall's warmth seeps through his skin like a caress starting from his toes and going up to his spine.

The puffing of air Niall's doing is hitting his neck making him squirm at the tickling feeling. Niall tries to suppress the unmanly giggle at the discovery that Harry's ticklish. Harry smiles and says, "What happened to you?" He asks, careful with the volume of his voice now.

It escapes him that it's three in the morning and he shouldn't be awake. He should be asleep, Niall should be asleep. Frankly, this is the stupidest and weirdest way to start a something  
with someone and to make it worst he's not complaining.

"So," Niall starts, "Are we going to stay like this the entire time?" 

Harry blushes at what Niall really meant with his words. He composes his demeanour before letting go of Niall.

"Now that we're cool, I think we should sit now." Niall doesn't take his hand and drags him to the settee or hangs all over him. He waits for Harry to start walking and sets his pace beside him. 

They sit at the middle and Niall makes him turn his back to face the right and Niall leans on him and opens his book. "I'm going to read. You should too." Harry picks up his book of poems and straightened his back.

He is not comfortable at all although Niall is. Shrugging, Harry opens it at the very first page. 

Five minutes of the only sound being pages turning, Niall says aloud, "The person, be it gentleman or lady, who has not pleasure in a good novel, must be intolerably stupid."

Harry smiles, recognising the quote instantly. "Jane Austen, Northanger Abbey." Niall laughs good-naturedly, "Are quotes your hobby?"

"The books are." 

"Ah, of course."

Harry clears his throat and recites a line from the poem he's reading, "He who glows alike the sun but he is my star." Niall moves away from him and they stare at each other. Niall with a confused expression and Harry awaiting for his reaction.

Apparently, Niall wants an explanation and Harry's happy enough to provide one. "It's very obvious. The author's in love with the 'sun', a person he's referring to. That's why he said, 'he is my star'." 

Niall tilts his head to the side and says, "Rihanna said 'you stole my star' in a Coldplay song." Harry couldn't stop his laughter. He almost forgot that Niall only learned about literature a day ago. 

"I can't see the connection but yeah, okay. Although I wonder how you are able to link that with a song." Harry sits properly this time to Niall's annoyance. 

Niall's blue eyes soften and his next words made Harry scowl. "You're so standard British posh. I bet you can play a classical instrument too." 

"I think that is more of a compliment than an insult." He grumbles. Niall grabs his hand looks at each set of his fingers carefully. Harry didn't question Niall's curiosity and wonders if he could figure it out.

"Violin or piano?" 

Oh, well, he did.

"Both." He says without missing a beat. He's gifted and he knows it and why should that be an embarrassment? Niall's eyes lights up reminding him of kids on Christmas day. "Are you good?"

Harry half-expected Niall to mock him about it and say that he's lame. Of course this is a much better reaction. Shrugging, he replies, "I had a few concertos when I was twelve." Niall's looking at him with admiration and this strokes his ego more than the other compliments he receive.

With Niall, words were not needed to know what the other is thinking.

"Play for me then." Niall breathes out, gripping Harry's hand hard. "What piece?" He questions. 

"I don't know. Anything, something."

There's that word again. Something. Hearing it made him nod easily to Niall's request. Niall who sits back with a satisfied grin and went back to reading his back. 

His hands are tingling and burning at the lost sensation of Niall's touch. The only colour in the room he could see is the golden shade of Niall's hair and his blue eyes peering up at him after every five seconds and a tiny smile tugging at the other's lips.

"Something." He couldn't help but bringing up that word again. It rolls of his tongue in a satisfying way and he repeats it again in an asking tone, "Something?"

Niall, finally, closed his book and threw it carelessly on the floor. He arranges his position by placing his head on the arm rest and his feet on top of Harry's lap. 

"Something good." 

It wasn't a request, a challenge or Niall wanting him to prove it. To Harry, it's a desire to show-off. Modesty and subtlety be damned. 

They didn't talk again. Only when it's time to leave do they speak again. A promise of seeing each other again at the exact same place and time, and Niall reminding him that he'll have to play something for him.

*

Harry arrives at the common room earlier than Niall again. When Niall appears, he found Harry with a box of some sort sitting at the settee while the man himself is standing. 

Excitement fills him at the prospect of what he's going to see any minute now. "So violin huh? Is it yours?"

"Of course." Harry bents down to pick it up. Niall sits at the uncomfortable arm chair and gazed over in fascination when Harry pulled out the violin. 

"So what are you playing for me?" Niall asks with a wide grin. The shine to the violin's body showed that Harry prepared for this.

Harry positions it on his shoulder and holds the bow on the other. "Keep grinning like you're a madman and I'll play England's national anthem." Niall rolls his eyes but didn't stop grinning 'like a madman'.

"It's pretty well-known. Traumerei by Robert Schumann." Taking a deep breath, Harry raises the bow to begin playing when Niall held his hands up. Raising a brow at Niall, the blond said, "It reminds me of the writer Robert Orange."

Harry closes his eyes; he's slowly losing his patience with Niall. Niall who had the gall to laugh and clap his hands like a snooty woman and said in a fail British accent, "Carry on young gentleman. Impress me." 

And Harry starts.

If the music Harrys's playing is a voice, it'd be a deep baritone. Some notes become high like a male soprano's, sharp but nevertheless gentle at the same time. There is something sorrowful into it too that Niall couldn't place a finger on.

A million different ideas are exploding inside Niall's head like fireworks. Harry's tall stature and focused expression is making him blush. Hearing the treble instrument play live for him compared to hearing it on the telly or at movies made him realise how truly wonderful the sound is.

Harry's fingers are marvellous. Niall wanted to cry, to jump up and down and to scream all at once. It's so fucking perfect and Harry's playing just for him. Niall fans himself to stop the emotional high he's experiencing with Harry's playing.

It's making him feel so damn special. Special in a way that others often associate with him. They say he's special because of his narcolepsy, and here's Harry making him feel important for doing something extraordinary. _Something_.

Harry opens his eyes and stares at Niall whose eyes are rimmed red and blowing out air from his mouth making his cheeks puff. He smiles at Niall before returning back to playing. He didn't see Niall smile back, or the fact that Niall's now clenching his fists.

Harry looks so perfect right now. He wants to wake everyone up and share with them this man's exemplary talent. On the other hand, Niall wants this to only be his. He wants to keep this talent a secret because _god dammit_ Harry's playing for him and this is theirs. This is their something.

He almost forgets the reason why they even meet here every morning. In the first place this was all a coincidence.

Harry can't sleep, and he doesn't want to sleep. They were bound to become friends what with spending time together. The motivation he has to not sleep is this. Spending time together, him being treated normally and not a delicate flower. 

This has really turned into something.

Something, something, something.

Harry finishes with a cocky smirk on his lips and bows. Niall doesn't complain; he deserves to be cocky what with what he just showed Niall.

One might tell him it's a simple piece (or complex he's not sure he's not into classical music after all) and he wouldn't give a fuck. It was played for him and that is all that matters. Niall arranges his self by wiping at his eyes and chewing on his bottom lip to stop the sobbing at the back of his throat.

Without noticing it, Harry's beside him and playing a happier piece. He looks at Niall with wide eyes and a mouth formed into an 'o', grins, and turns around again. He's walking around while playing, making it look so effortlessly.

Niall's torn between wanting to hit him with the bow or to stand up and applaud him. When Harry finished, he falls down at the sofa clutching the bow and violin close to him.

"I think you just made the worst mistake of your life," Harry begins to say, "I'll never stop playing for you now. I forgot how completely wonderful it is to play."

Niall's first reaction is to envelope Harry into a hug while muttering, "Don't stop playing. Never ever never." Niall settles with a shrug and said, "Keep doing it then. Will stop me from falling asleep to listen to you."

From the sofa, Harry raises a brow at him, "Now that I'm thinking about it, you'd be too relax."

Niall's words surprised the both of them;

"How can I when I'd love to watch you play as much as to listen?" Niall blushes at his own words and automatically ducks his head down when Harry laughs, "You're a good ego boost."

Changing the subject, Niall just said what came first to his mind, "When did you started playing the violin?"

Harry's mindlessly plucking the strings, replying, "It's something I enjoyed hearing as a kid. Obviously I wanted to learn how to do it too so my Mum enrolled me in classes and here I am."

There's that word again. Something.

"Play another one." Niall requested. Harry didn't let him down.

*

Harry polishes his violin's bow while waiting for Niall. It has been one week and seven days that Niall came in his life with his blue eyes and dyed hair keeping him company. It's a bit fast, it's quite weird and unbelievable too.

His usual explanation always makes up when he gets anxious about their morning meet-ups. They are both lacking from sleep, suffering from opposite problems and just so happens to find solace in each other.

One week and seven days ago he was a sulking teenager in the common room with his sweater as a pillow and a book to keep him occupied, and one week and seven days after he's talking about the things he love with a person whose last name he can't remember.

Not to mention the fact that he's playing the violin for said person and doesn't get paid.

When Niall arrived, they just nodded at each other and Harry started playing a random piece with notes he faintly remembers. He's probably messing it up, but one glance at Niall and he just kept continuing.

That look of entrancement on Niall's face kept him going. Those pretty blue eyes were trained on his form intently and intensely than ever before. His opinion is that Niall resembles an innocent child finding out about the magnificent things in life.

He stops playing and falls down on the settee dramatically. Sitting at the armchair near the fireplace with a comforter wrapped around him, Niall says, "Bravo." He dismisses the mockery and places his violin and bow back in the case.

"Niall, I want to sleep." He mumbles. Harry seriously has nothing to say. 

"I don't." And Niall seems to be not in the mood for sarcastic answers.

Harry frowns at the lack of conversation they're having. A thought passes him about Niall that he so want to know, "What are your nightmares?"

Him asking about it is saying a lot for their relationship. You don't ask people what they're scared off so easily. 

"None," Niall yawns before continuing, "They are hallucinations." Niall blinks once, twice, and sighed, "It's called sleep paralysis and is one of the perks, mind the sarcasm, of having narcolepsy. I imagine seeing intruders, demons, incubus, burglars, etcetera. And when I see them, my muscles won't cooperate with me."

At a certain point while he's speaking, Harry stands and walks toward him. His green eyes level at Niall's dilated blue ones. He sits down in front of Niall with his elbows on each side of Niall's legs at the arm chair.

"I hate this place, I hate my friends, I hate the teachers and I hate that I can't sleep," A small smile, "Yet I like you."

Harry held his gaze on Niall's, head lowering down, lips nearing Niall's knees about to kiss it. He pulls away at the last second and blows air on it, "Tell me Niall, what is this? I'm not some naive eleven year old who doesn't feel the sexual tension in the air."

Niall's breathing hitched. His brows furrowed, struggling to get the words out. "This-it's-well, it's a something." Harry sighs inwardly. He accepted it though; after all he doesn't have any logical explanation for this except that something is happening.

"We always say 'something' why is that?"

"Why are you asking me you're the one who started it."

"Oh, did I?"

"Yes, it was you."

Harry settles his chin on Niall's knee and his arms around his dangling legs. "I'll tell you something really cool; what we do when we're together feels like it came out of a novel."  
Niall laughs loudly, "A boy who plays violin and the other who listens, and from time to time they also quote books. The many times I asked myself how did this happen I have forgotten."

Six am shouldn't have come so early and in silence.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I decided to chop this story into parts to make it chaptered. It's all outlined with the ending and only needs to be written.

_Hey there, Louis. I'm sure you're having the time of your life what with being in a commercial city and in University. I hope not too much fun because your best buddy, a.k.a me, isn't having a lovely time here. No, actually, I love it here. I made a new friend and his name is Niall. He thinks, or seems, to love my talent for the violin and I'm sure you'd love him too: he can quote Wilde and Austen so easily similar to what we do back in the days. Give my love to Eleanor._

Harry felt like vomiting with his words. He sounds so stupidly.. in-love. He highlights all the words that comes next of the one saying he made a new friend and left the one with Eleanor. It's shorter now and Louis will complain about their lack of communication again, but he'd rather deal with Louis' drama than talk about feelings.

It's almost three and he's anxious to go to the common room already. His bow and violin's beside him polished and tightened, the music notes he had to surf the web for because he can't remember it properly is repeating itself inside his head.

Liam's snoring is getting on his nerves. He spent the entire day hearing Liam trash talk Zayn Malik and frankly, he thinks that they are some kind of a cliche couple that will always fight in the beginning and end up together anyway.

He's not someone who meddles in relationships, and Liam would probably punch him in the face if he mentions it. Swimming sessions used to keep his mind on track and now it doesn't. The fact that he also skipped practice earlier in favour of practicing the violin at the music room says a lot about his priorities right now.

His mobile screen flashes upon being clicked. It's three zero one am and he couldn't stop the excitement bubbling in his chest. Sure, he's tired, would rather close his eyes and wait until it's the time to be properly awake, however, the prospect of Niall waiting for him to arrive makes him happy. 

Harry banishes the questions running rampant in his mind. His and Niall's something has gone too far to even be stopped now. They get closer and closer every day comparable to a high-speed train only stopping when it's the end.

Not wanting to sully his mood, he shoos away the thought of quitting this, quitting _Niall_ , and replaces it with thinking of the notes of the violin piece he's going to play today for Niall.

He quietly makes his way outside and into the common room where he know Niall's waiting for him. Sitting at the hard armchair with a cup of tea, Niall looks up from the rim of the cup and managed a smile.

His eyes are droopier than ever, dark circles underneath his lids very prominent though it's dark and his blond hair's ruffled. Harry automatically kneels on one knee beside him and asks, "Are you alright?" 

"It's late," Niall phrases slowly, "And I'm sad." Harry raises a brow at the bluntness, "Why?" Shaking his head to Harry's question, Niall drinks on his cup and closes his eyes for a moment. 

"You know, talking to you makes me forget about the bad things." Niall mumbles. Harry waits for him to speak again.

"Because of these times. You know that I'm sick, Harry. But you act it as if I' am not in fact sick. You bring your stupid violin with you and play me stupid tunes and you make me forget that I have problems. It makes me so angry with you, to be honest. Because when six in the morning comes, I'm back to being Niall the ill boy." Niall says it all slowly, soft, and a small smile on his face that Harry ignored the insults.

Clutching his violin and bow, Harry says in a fierce tone, "Well, things have changed for me too since I met you and I'm fine with it. I'm fucking happy with it. And guess what? I'll forever stick by your side like glue and play my stupid violin and my stupid tunes." 

Niall stares down at him with wide eyes. Then he's smiling, grinning, and full-on laughter. He tried to balance the cup and to cover his mouth because of his uncontrollable laughter. Chuckling at Niall's reaction, Harry stand up and takes Niall's mug from him to put it on the coffee table.

"I'm sorry. The lack of sleep must be getting to me. I've never been so dramatic my entire life." Niall managed to say in between his giggles. Harry runs his fingers on Niall's hair to mess it up more. The latter didn't complain and even leaned into the touch.

"You're not alone in your struggle," Harry says, "Remember that I'm having troubles too." Harry didn't give Niall the time to reply for he's moving away immediately and positioning the violin on his shoulder near his collarbone.

He wiggles his eyebrows at Niall, "Now, good sir, shut up and appreciate me." Niall takes his mug back from the table and arranges his form on armchair. He winks at Harry as signal to start and that made the other bite his cheek to stop the chuckle.

Clearing his throat, he began. There is that sweet crooning melody again making Niall's heartbeat pick up in an alarming rate. Harry's talent practically drips from his pores and Niall's left stunned. No matter how many times he sees and hear this, he'll probably never get tired of it.

Harry stood still, then he looks away from the violin to look back at Niall and he continues playing effortlessly without looking at his fingers. The corners of his mouth lift up in a smile. He mouths, "Beautiful sound?" Niall nods hurriedly, afraid Harry might think twice for a second that he's not good at all. It's another sad little piece but it's filling him with joy. 

And Niall wonders if this is how falling in-love feels like.

Harry continued playing non-stop, only taking one minute breaks to walk over to Niall and ask if he likes it. Niall wouldn't gush, he'd just shrug his shoulders and fiddle with his empty mug. Harry would grin out of glee and saunter to every nook and cranny of the common room to play.

When he played Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake, Niall asked what it was. He'd shrug without answering and Niall would shrug too, not really minding. 

Harry watches Niall with his bright eyes and lips always turn upward hinting a smile. He finishes Swan Lake and plays another Tchaikovsky, Waltz of the Flowers, and Niall asks again what it is. Similar to earlier he shrugs and Niall shrugs too. 

When it's all over Harry noted that Niall only appeared to be interested in Tchaikovsky. 'Sweet and sappy melodies, to be frank. It's no wonder he likes it.' 

"It's six o' clock already." Niall mumbles with a frown. Harry raises a brow, "What is it?" Grumbling, Niall stands up from the armchair and said, "Back to regular Niall allowed to sleep in classes and eat and act invisible to everyone."

Harry almost wanted to demand why he has that kind of privilege when realisation struck him. Because oh, _oh_ , Niall feels that way.

Chuckling, he places the violin and bow on the sofa and walks to Niall glaring at the carpet by the sofa. He sighs and hugs Niall who stiffened and gasped at the sudden contact. "I feel the same." 

Niall growls at him, not finding it amusing at all. "What do you mean?" They both know the answer to that, but hearing it would probably, hopefully, end all the awkwardness.

"I want to talk to you too not just at three in the morning. I want to spend the entire day with you so as to not waste bloody time, Niall. I feel the same."

Niall relaxes and to his happiness, Niall hugs him back. He fits perfectly inside Harry's arms. Harry can tuck Niall right underneath his chin, and his arms can reach Niall's waist and hug him from there without problem. 

He could kiss Niall's forehead easily, the tip of his nose, his philtrum, his lips, both of his cheeks, his jaw, the side of his neck, the underside of his ear, his chest, his palms, every finger and toe and his ankles. 

But he's fine with hugging right now. He's okay with anything; he can wait. He seriously can- Niall presses his lips on Harry's exposed clavicle gently.

Waiting be damned.

Harry pushes Niall a bit from the shoulders and stares back at his blue eyes. They could be caught any minute now, considering that it's not dark anymore. Their breaths are in sync, and without hesitation, Harry leans in to press his lips to Niall's.

Soft, pleasant and pliant. Really soft though chapped. Just pressing of lips and nothing else. Niall's eyelashes flutter on his cheek, and it makes his insides burn. Niall took the initiative and takes both of his hands with his. He clenches Niall's own, and leans just a tad bit more.

It didn't have to be passionate, there were no fireworks, just butterflies. They kept still and Harry's hands move up from Niall's to his pulse; elevated. He runs his palm on Niall's skin, as if soothing Niall when he began moving his lips to Niall's nose up to his forehead.

The feeling inside their stomach continued burning, threatening to pour out of the both of them. He memorises the feel of the soft baby-like skin, the curve of Niall's nose all the while as Niall's heavy breathing met his neck. He moves his hands to the planes of Niall's shoulders up to his ears, to his hair.

Harry's quite sure this is what falling in-love feels like.

*

The next day, it felt as if the past repeated itself. They were both sitting on each end of the settee and in silence. Harry held his violin and bow in shaking hands while Niall fans his self with a book.

Harry glances at Niall who wasn't moving and kept his eyes straight to where the fireplace is. He's chewing on his bottom lip absentmindedly, and Harry's reminded of kissing Niall yesterday.

The memory made his cheeks hot. Niall clears his throat and adjusts the collar of his already too low v-neck. He didn't stop once on fanning his self. Harry felt like he wanted the ground to swallow him. He shouldn't have kissed Niall if this is how they are going to be now.

"Well?" Niall's voice echoes in the room, his book on his lap and he's looking at Harry with a blush on his cheeks mirroring Harry's. Composing his self, Harry raises a brow and says, "Well what?"

Shrugging, Niall picks his book and flutters the pages. He doesn't look at Harry again, but he did say, "Aren't you playing?" Niall's hand raised and he gestures to Harry's violin, still not looking up.

"Er, okay." 

He leans on the settee's back and raised his arms. Deciding that Tchaikovsky will be fine, which is most definitely not to his tastes but Niall likes it enough to ask, Harry began playing. 

It's a variation of Swan Lake, more twinkling and what eight-year old girls would play, and okay he's only doing it as a form of apology. Apology to what? He didn't know, but his sub-conscience wanted him to.

Niall stopped his page fluttering in favour of resting his head on the arm of the settee and making shapes on his book's spine. His toes were moving unconsciously to the tempo of the piece and Harry felt himself smiling in spite of the awkward air.

"Enjoying it?" He decided to ask. Niall nods with a smile, though still refusing to meet his eyes. "I like it a lot." Really, it's such a bad taste but Harry could only hum.

"You know," He begins again once he finishes, "I'm actually getting bored of being here." Niall gasps and looks up at Harry with a slacked jaw and eyes wide.

"W-what? You don't like me anymore? But I thought-" Niall didn't continue and could only look everywhere but Harry. Realising his mistake at the phrase, Harry rushes to Niall's side.

Not caring that he's invading the blond's space, Harry sits beside Niall as near as he could. "No, you got it wrong! I swear I still like you."

It was his turn to be embarrassed and to look around. After a few seconds, he hears Niall's giggling and he's thankful once again for Niall's easily dismissive manner. "Is that a confession?" Niall asks with a smug smile. Harry could see the worry in his eyes though.

He smiles close lipped, afraid of what he might blurt out that wouldn't fit the situation properly. Constructing his words carefully, Harry says, "Am I the only one going to confess then?"

"You won't be unless you do it properly." Niall shifts on his seat and tucked his feet under his legs, making Harry move back a bit. He vaguely wonders if this is Niall's way of telling him to back off but he took his chances.

"I like you. Very much. A-fucking-lot." They stare at each other before bursting into giggles. Niall bites his bottom lip to stop himself yet he couldn't. Giving up in modesty, Niall says straightforwardly, "I like you too."

Not noticing that they both let out an almost silent sigh of relief that that's finally out of the way, Harry's voice drops, "Will it be okay to kiss you then?" He feels like he's ten again and he's hiding in the school yard with his 'girlfriend'. He remembered her nodding and she closed her eyes waiting for him.

Except that Niall isn't a girl. His eyes widen when Niall places his hands in each of his cheeks and leaned in. The force of it made him surprised that their teeth didn't crash or anything painful. 

To make it weirder, Niall stopped when they were about to kiss. His grip on Harry's head was dropping, and the way he's stammering a sorry made Harry growl. He places his hands on top of Niall's and grasped it tightly. 

"No," His words made Niall look at him directly, "Don't be embarrassed." Harry chuckles, not quite believing how his heart could beat so fast like this, or why Niall's eyes are so blue. So freaking blue.

"Your eyes are very green." Niall mumbles. Harry laughs and bumps their forehead gently. The nearer he gets, the more he feels like drowning. "And yours are so blue," Niall blushes and he continues, "Is that even possible?"

Without waiting for an answer, Harry closes the gap between their lips. His toes curl at the feeling, and his hands tighten on Niall's. Overwhelming feelings, pulse skyrocketing, Niall's face that shines brighter than anything like a beacon to him in the dark. 

Niall's hands were trembling, and he holds on tighter. He pushes on Niall's lips one last time before leaning back. Those blue eyes were rimmed with tears, and Harry perfectly understands why. 

He holds both of their hands in front of them and Niall says, "Thank you." He smiles and kisses Niall's fingers, softly and slowly until he kissed every one of it.

"You make me feel normal. Like I'm not an entire burden; you make me forget." Niall's really crying now, and Harry concludes that he doesn't like it. 

"Well, I think you're fucking beautiful, and that you're so special to me." He says. Niall tries not to smile and he stopped crying now, just looking at Harry with a quivering bottom lip. 

"Are you sure?"

Laughing, Harry said, "Did I stutter?" Niall laughs too, and Harry thinks, 'Now that's more like it.'

*

Harry's carrying a pot of tea and small cups when he arrives at the common room. Standing besides the fireplace is Niall with two blue and yellow checkered blankets. He stopped on his tracks when Niall grins at him, "Did we talk about this?" 

Shrugging, he replies, "I think I mentioned it. I vaguely remember saying that staying cooped-up inside was becoming boring."

"Yeah, I think you did," Niall holds up the blankets, "I thought we could go outside if it's fine with you?" 

Harry copies Niall, "I'm very prepared." Smiling at each other, they walk to the entrance of the hall and Harry unlocks it with ease. The door made a creaking sound that forced him to do it slowly. 

Once opened at a marginally reasonable size, they both hurried outside while laughing. Harry closes it again just as slowly when he felt a damp wetness on his feet. Looking down, he realised that they're barefoot and stepping on grass and mud.

Groaning, Harry 's about to open the door again when Niall stopped him by grabbing Harry's arm. "Oh, come on. Don't be such a prissy arse. This is much better than wearing shoes." Shrugging his consent, Harry followed Niall as they walk into the middle of the front yard of their hall.

He glances at the sign 'Do Not Step On The Grass' and snorts. Niall arranges one blanket on the least spot where the sprinklers haven't touched. He sits down and pats the empty spot beside him. Harry sat down and places the teapot and cups in front of them.

The view is magnificent; they could see the lake that their school is quite proud of surrounded by sky high pine trees. The world outside the cramped four walls of the common room really is different. 

The sky had a countless expanse of stars with constellations that he could easily spot and name. In his mind, Harry's already cataloguing everything he's seen when a finger poking his cheek stopped him from his trance.

He looks down on Niall who is offering to share the other blanket with him. Harry takes it, and feeling bold, curves his spine to reach Niall's cheek and kiss it. Niall became flustered, nevertheless, he smiled and Harry did too. Niall takes the tea pot and pours for the both of them while Harry watches.

Taking the green mug, he says idly, "Talk to me about your life." Raising a brow at the question, Niall drinks from the blue mug. Swallowing the warm liquid, he replies, "It's not interesting. I'd bore you to death."

"No, it won't. You can talk about it all you want and I'll listen." He's not lying; Harry really wants to learn about Niall. They might have admitted they like each other and that 'something' is going on with them, but they don't truly know each other.

He's truly and utterly interested. He wants to grasp every piece of information about Niall. Everything there is to know, to uncover, to feel sad about, get angry and laugh at. 

"I want you to tell me about yourself too." Niall said, eyes zooming on the grass where a patch of white flowers are growing. 

"Why not?" Harry responds, all the while not being able to control his grin when Niall's head hits his shoulder. 

True to his word, Niall speaks and Harry listened. When morning came, Harry swore he could recite everything about Niall. His favourite food, the colour of his duvet when he was eight, Greg Horan's most embarrassing moments and so much more. 

They didn't spoke about narcolepsy, or ISP and insomnia. It's just them and talking to someone who helps them forget about the day ahead.

*

Third period ended in a blur of shadowy figures and Liam tapping on his iPhone aggressively with his text books tucked underneath his arm. Harry exits the classroom and says goodbye to Liam whose next class is at the other floor.

Liam responded with a nod he could have missed. He seems to be texting, and by the grumbles and snarls, he could tell that it's probably Zayn. Harry smirks inwardly at the thought of the two becoming a couple. 

Some of the students he passed gave him friendly smiles and at least three invited him to a party with his reply all being, "I'll see if I can," which to him translates to "Nope, never, I won't." He would have go if it wasn't for Niall. 

_'For Niall.'_ He didn't know why but the thought made him smile. Things to do with Niall, things to give Niall, things that could happen with Niall. The prospects are all endless even though their relationship doesn't have a name.

Harry thinks, _'Fuck labels.'_ They do have a name: something. Something. Something worthy for him to skip out on parties. Something that keeps his problems at bay. 

Something that made him fall in-love similar to the domino effect. One word, one day, one action, and everything just falls similar to a freight train. It's unstoppable, you can't avoid it and at the end, you'll just have to accept it.

"Excuse me, excuse me, let us through." A familiar voice boomed who seems to be trying to get inside the infirmary.

He's snapped out of his trance when students began crowding. Harry didn't push through like some and just kept on watching. One of the males in his year passed through the circle and Harry grabbed him by the shoulder, asking, "What's happening?"

"Someone passed out and had a broken nose." Harry lets go and mumbled a thanks. The crowd dissolves when the nurse went out and scolded them all. That's when Harry spotted Zayn Malik with his shoulder around Niall's who is clutching his nose with his hand and white shirt bloodied.

His feet felt like it's in the water. Agonisingly slow and trying to embrace the thought that Niall's there and hurt, he rushes pass the walking students and pushed some. He didn't apologise to any of them and only continued running to the infirmary.

Zayn and Niall are already inside, and the nurse was just about to close the door. She glares at Harry when he tried pushing it open. "Do you have any business here?" Calming his self, Harry says, 

"That's my friend," The word friend left such a foul taste on his tongue but he continued, "The one who fell." Raising a brow at him, the nurse says, "He already has someone with him. I'm sorry but you have to wait."

He growls inwardly but smiles charmingly on the outside. He casually runs his hand on his hair making the curls fall messily and licking his lips, "Come on, please." The nurse, who appears to be in her late twenties, just blushed and nods.

She held the door wider for him and stammered out, "Just don't make any loud noises or disturb the other patients." He nods in understanding and made his way inside the infirmary. The too-white walls made his eyes crinkle in annoyance and the smell of medicine is there.

Harry instantly sees Niall; he's sitting on a white bed clutching the sheets as another clean the blood off. The older nurse caring for Niall turned to Zayn. She said something that made Zayn grumble. She spoke again and then Zayn left before ruffling Niall's hair affectionately.

Zayn passes him and when he meet Harry's eyes, he glared menacingly with his jaw tight though he didn't said a word. The nurse starts putting a square bandage on Niall's nose who obviously tried not to wince. Harry's on his toes again and walking to Niall who stares at him in open surprise. The nurse pats his cheek and walked away from the beds, ignoring Harry.

The corner of Niall's lips turn upside down the nearer Harry gets. Finally, he's facing Niall whose, he notices up close, shoulders are trembling a bit. Harry unconsciously bites his lip at the state of Niall's shirt.

"What are you doing here?" Niall mumbles, words a bit slurred thanks to the injuries on his face. Harry couldn't stop himself from replying with, "Because I care, Niall. That's why."

Smiling, Niall sighs. "Narcolepsy hit me while walking. Apparently it was too breezy and I was relaxed and I just fell there on the concrete." Harry noticed with a wince that one or two of Niall's front teeth are now crooked. 

He sits down on the bed opposite Niall's and placed his text books on his right side. His right hand is on top of the left, feet resting on one of the metal bars the bed has.

"Hey," Harry extends his right arm and grabbed Niall's own hand, "You're not alone in this. It's going to be alright in the end, I promise." With an encouraging smile he adds, "I'd still like you together with your crooked tooth and bloody nose.

Niall laughs but immediately stopped. Harry, assuming that it's because of the nose, clasps Niall's hand tighter. "It's okay," He starts, "After all, a stupid broken nose can't keep me away."

"Keep you away from what?" Niall asks, brows furrowed and eyes narrowing every second thanks to the humongous bandage on his face. Harry didn't know the reason why, but he's feeling brave. He pulls Niall to him using his hand grasping Niall's and he moves too. Stopping when their really close now, Harry grins, "This."

Harry presses his lips to Niall and pushes off just as quickly. Niall looked at him with wide blue eyes, expression clear that he's not sure if it really happened or not.

Niall's words caught him completely off guard, "You're wearing a brown jumper, skinny jeans and brown boots."

"Yes, I' am."

"Hipster Harold." Niall scoffed. 

He couldn't help the boisterous laughter bubbling out of his chest. Several of the nurses shushed him all at once, and when he stopped, he says, "You're so lovely Niall." It made Niall giggle, shoulders not trembling anymore but shaking; trying not to laugh.

"Why don't you kiss me proper then?"

"Audacious, aren't we?" Harry says, "Well, okay."

This time, Harry hops off the bed and held Niall by the shoulders and kissed him. Their lips move in tune and there's no tongue, yet the feeling of their attached mouths made their heartbeats pick up. Harry took his time and pulls on Niall's bottom lip, then goes back to fully kissing him again.

That's when one of the nurses finally threw him out. He shouts a, "I'll see you later!" before having the door shut on his face. Harry lets what just transpired sink in his brain. With a stupid grin, he agrees with his sub-conscience that yes, kissing Niall is delightful.

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Lea, Luna, Darcy and Gillian for being patient with me as I keep messaging them on Tumblr about this story and asking for their opinions.


End file.
